Page 39 of Amnesty

The dock wasn’t very long. It went right up to the shoreline, which was rocky with no beach whatsoever. This side of the land was denser with trees and nature, not utilized at all. From the dock, there was a path that cut right between two tall trees, an entrance to what felt like a dark forest. Yes, that sounded a little dramatic. It wasn’t.

“This place is creepy,” Am murmured as we walked over the path toward the trees.

“Definitely not on my bucket list of places to visit again,” I quipped.

There weren’t many sounds of birds as we walked on the path. Or of small animals scurrying through the leaves and grass. Everything was still here, almost dead.

Or scared.

Up ahead, I saw the tree line thin out; just beyond it, everything seemed a little brighter.

“The house must be through there,” I told her, even though she probably already figured it out on her own.

Sure enough, the second we made it to the line of trees, the house came into view.

“How old do you think that place is?” she asked, voice still hushed as we teetered at the tree line.

“Older than me at least. It was here before I was born,” I replied. And by the looks of the white clapboard building, it definitely didn’t get any updates over the past twenty-five years.

“C’mon,” Am said, tugging my hand. She started walking, but I moved ahead, angling myself in front of her as we went.

Wind carried through the trees, pulling at my hair and clothes. It did feel colder here; my cheeks stung a little from the bite of the air.

There was no way…no wayshe’d spent the last eleven years here on this island, so close yet so far away. This was a hideous place. I’d only been here a few minutes and already I couldn’t imagine staying for any length of time.

“Anytime you want to leave,” I told her, “just say the word.”

The ground was uneven, the grass grew in patches, and in between, the ground was rocky. I would judge the island to be maybe one and a half to two miles wide. The only building I knew of was the house, where we were heading first.

“The front must be on the other side,” she said, tugging me off to the side where a worn dirt path led us around.

There was an old-school laundry line not far from the house. Tall grass grew around the poles that held it up. Two thin lines stretched between them, bobbing in the wind. On one end, forgotten laundry blew around. The ends of the white sheet were tattered as if it had been left in the weather for a while. There was also a towel and a long white nightgown.

“There’s a garden,” Am said, pointing to a fairly large plot of land boxed in with wood and protected by a short row of metal fencing. “She must grow her own food.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “She didn’t come to town very often.”

“Are there any other towns nearby? Accessible to the lake?”

I thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, but it’s farther away. A longer boat ride.”

“There’s the door,” she said.

We stopped around the “front” of the house. It was only distinguishable as the front because of the faded red door in the center. Otherwise, it looked exactly the same as the other sides we walked around.

It was ominous the way it just sat there, towering above us as if it owned the land.

Amnesia’s fingers shook in mine, but her feet started forward. We walked up some crude stone steps that led to the front door.

“Should we knock?” She wondered.

This wasn’t a polite social call. I wasn’t about to announce my presence with a neighborly knock. Instead, I reached out and turned the handle. The door gave way, a loud creaking sound filling the air as it swung in.

We stood there for long seconds, both of us kind of surprised the place was just unlocked. Of course, when you lived on a private, creepy island, there probably wasn’t much reason to lock up.

We stood there long enough that a great gust of wind pushed behind us and a few brown, crumpled leaves blew inside, scattering across the wooden floor.

I went first, using my arm to shield Am, keeping her behind me. My free hand hovered over my lowered back.

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